I Paid Attention To Love
by Xaviera Xylira
Summary: This... is here.... it... is... well, it's here. Yes. Draco/Hermione, Christmas, 7th year.


A/N: A Christmas gift from me to you, even though I have absolutely no idea who you are. A little break from A REMUS STORY (just a little one, don't worry, all my faithful Remus readers, few though you may be! I'm working HARD on chapter eight!). 

And to all you Draco/Herm pairing haters, I would say something very nasty, but that's just not me. *cough* I'm a fan of all the pairings, I don't really care who ends up with who because JKR knows what's best and I have complete faith in her. I wanted to write a d/h because the two of them together intrigue me, and if you don't like it, then I suggest that you don't read it. 

I don't plan on continuing this, unless I get a holy amount of reviews, which I don't plan on either. Which brings me to another point. **NO FLAMES**. Well, you can flame me, but not on the account that you hate dr/herm fics. If you think my story really sucks, then by all means, flame me royally, but include a legitimate reason, please. And do excuse any grammatical errors and misspellings. (Where did that overly proper sentence come from?! Oh my God... my language teacher is finally starting to rub off on me....) I'm sorta new at writing fanfiction. This is mushy at one point, but who cares? I feel like making it mushy. 

Disclaimer: I hate saying this, it always makes me feel bad. *deep breath* Okay, I don't own anyone or anything.... All I own is the measly plot, if you can find one, that is. There. I did it. I hope I made all you sadistic lawyer-types happy. 

~*~

I walked through the snow, not really paying attention to where I was going. I didn't care. I just needed an escape. Maybe if I got lost, I could stay lost, seeing as I really had no desire to return to reality. 

Harry and Ron were both at the Weasley's house for Christmas--- I had been invited, of course, but I lied and said I would be spending time with my parents. The Weasleys were nice, but I needed to be alone. 

That really was ironic. Really, I'm alone every day of my life, no matter how anyone sees it. 

This is my last year at Hogwarts, my last Christmas. This year, I'll say goodbye to my home from the past seven years of my life. 

And what had I earned from it? What? All the studying, all the honors.... All for what? So what if I'm smart? What has it gotten me? A Head Girl badge. Well, big wow to that. 

There is no one here for me anymore. Harry and Ron are both too consumed in their busy lives to really acknowledge me anymore. Oh, we're still best friends, but not in the same sense as we used to be. I've become a shadow; faded just to a point were no one really recognizes me anymore. 

But I suppose it's for the best. Now they don't have to worry about me anymore; now they can just forget me and go on with their lives. After all, when we graduate, I won't see them everyday, our meetings and talks will become less frequent, and soon they'll forget that I even existed. 

I kept walking. The snow was soaking into my boots and dampening them as evidence of how long I had been wandering around out here. I was vaguely aware of where I was, but I had yet to think of a reason to return to the castle. 

I couldn't go home. I didn't even _have_ a home to return to. Yes, thank you bloody well, _Lord_ Voldemort, for murdering my parents when they were basically the only thing that I had some faith in. Thanks a lot. 

Yes, Voldemort was still in power. He wasn't powerful enough to have completed his demented desire of world dominance, but he still posed a very large threat. Kept the Ministry on their toes, to say the very least. Things were regularly chaotic in the wizarding world, and the muggle world wasn't looking so happy either. 

No one knew about my parents' death. It happened in the spring of my sixth year, and (with the help of Dumbledore) I had it all covered up before any Rita Skeeter wanna-bes could sink their quills into it. I didn't need a bunch of people coming to me with their forced sympathy. 

To the entire Hogwarts student body, I was a model pupil. I wore the Head Girl badge (and Draco Malfoy, ironically, wore the Head Boy badge) and made regular trips to the library, had impeccable grades, the answer to nearly every question.... To most I was considered a workaholic, some kind of programmed robot, inhuman. I don't believe that many of them thought I was capable of having feelings, as it seemed that all I ever did was study. The teachers all expected me to be perfect, to always have very answer correct, to have read every blasted book in the library. Sometimes it feels like all of that pressure is too much.... as though I'm forbidden to make a mistake; as though that would be some serious sin. If I did even the tiniest little thing slightly wrong, people would talk about it. Act like it some sort of fabulous crime. 

I wonder what people would think if they knew how I really felt.

I don't really suppose they'd care. No one would. 

I found myself standing in front of the lake. It was frozen, but every now and then I could see something glittering and dark move around in those forbidden waters. I looked at the trees on the other side, the ones lining the Forbidden Forest, and stared at them reflectively. They all had a mysteriousness about them; they stood tall, dark, and unfeeling. That sounds very familiar. 

What was that? A noise, where did it come from? I turned my head in the direction I heard the sound, but it was hard to see; it was getting dark out. However, I could just make out a figure walking slowly towards the lake. Whoever it was didn't seem to be aware that I was there. I didn't move; I simply watched as the figure walked to the edge of the lake, a few feet away from me. It was then that I realized exactly who this person was. 

Draco Malfoy. 

Oh, how lovely. Just what I needed. Insults. 

Except he didn't insult me. He still didn't seem to notice that I was there. Good Lord, am I that pathetic that even someone standing a few feet away from me doesn't even notice I exist? 

I'd just slip away. Go back to Gryffindor Tower and go to sleep. The feast had already begun; I wasn't interested in it anyway. And Draco Malfoy wouldn't even have to know that he was standing so close to a mudblood, as I could imagine him saying indignantly. 

Just as I turned around, however, he proved that he had indeed realized that I was standing near him (how positively brilliant he must be).

"Granger. Fancy seeing you here." It wasn't an insult. His voice didn't even hold that usual sneer and disdainful edge that it usually did. It sounded oddly strained; calm, but strained. 

"Malfoy," I said stiffly. It might be some kind of setup. He turned to look at me. Merlin, those eyes....

"What are you doing down here?" A mere question; it might even have sounded a bit friendly. 

"I was just... thinking," I replied, turning my gaze once more to the lake. Malfoy nodded and looked at the lake as well. 

"'Bout what?" he asked good-naturedly. I narrowed my eyes. Why was he being so... nice?

"Why should I tell you?" I snapped snidely. Now, that was a bit rude of me; he hadn't done anything to me... yet. He didn't appear to be fazed, however. Shrugging, he said:

"You just looked... troubled." I glanced at him suspiciously. What was _with _him? 

"And why would you care?" I asked cautiously. He shrugged again. 

"Granger, do you ever just get tired of being yourself all the time?" He asked thoughtfully after a few moments. I rose my eyebrows. Did Malfoy have some sort of telepathic powers, that he could read my thoughts? I swallowed, debating on how to answer that. I sighed softly, thinking about how much truth was in that statement. 

"Every bloody day," I replied quietly, looking out at the lake once more. "Sometimes, I think that all anyone ever sees is this wispy little bookworm, like no one can ever---" I stopped. I was _not _about to go pouring my heart out to Draco Malfoy. 

"What? Can't tell me?" A hint of that old sneer had creeped back into his voice. "Of course. You'd never say anything other than insults to 'Hogwart's favorite Death Eater'," he mocked. 

"Well, maybe if you'd treat me as a human being, Malfoy, I'd converse with you in something other than oral disputes," I replied coolly. I expected him to come back with something like "Well, maybe if you proved you were human," or "Mudbloods don't deserve to be acknowledged in that way," but he was silent. And so was I. We turned our attention to the lake once more. 

"I'm not, you know," he said suddenly. I looked at him, startled. 

"What?" 

"I'm not a Death Eater," he said, his tone unfeeling, his face not leaving the lake. "It was planned, though. I was supposed to become one over summer vacation. That was the way Father wanted it," he spat out the last part with disgust evident in his voice. I stared at him. Why was he telling me this? 

"What happened?" I asked when he said no more. He shrugged once more.

"I ran away." I gaped at him, shocked. He glanced at me. "What? Thought I would've given in? Thought I didn't have the guts to run away? Thought my father would've gone all soft for the first time in his miserable life and told me 'It's okay, son, I completely understand'? Really, Granger, for someone so smart, you really can be dim sometimes." He said all this very calmly. 

"No," I began, slightly dazed. "No, Draco, I'm just wondering how you were placed in Slytherin when you really seem to be more of a Gryffindor." I didn't even realize I'd called him Draco until after I'd said it.

"I'm not sure how to respond to that, but I'm going to take it as a compliment," he said after a moment. "He's dead now," Draco said after another short silence. "My father. Murdered. By Voldemort, of course. Along with my mother. Apparently, the Dark Lord was really depending on my joining the dark side. He seemed to have taken his anger out on my parents."

"Draco, I'm--" 

"Don't say it. I don't want your sympathy, Granger. I don't need you to feel sorry for me. I didn't love him; he was no more of a father to me than Voldemort was." 

"I wasn't thinking that, Malfoy," I whispered, referring back to his last name. He glanced at me. 

"Oh, really?" I nodded and took a step towards him. 

"I was thinking, Malfoy, about everything else your father must have been." I tried to look into his eyes, but he stared determinedly at the lake. 

"That isn't important anymore," he said solemnly. 

"My parents are both dead, too," I told him after a moment. "Murdered by Voldemort as well. He gets around, doesn't he?" I quipped bitterly. 

"And you loved them?" he asked, his eyes darting over to me. I hadn't been expecting that. I was silent for a little while, then---

"Yes," I replied softly, albeit inaudibly. "They were the only thing that I had left to depend on." 

"What do you mean 'all you had left to depend on?'" I sighed. 

"Malfoy, my life isn't perfect, you know." 

"No one's is, Granger," he replied seriously. "But what about Potter and Weasley?" 

"They're... around...." I indicated lamely. 

"I see," he drawled. "Potter and Weasley grew up and don't have time for the mudblood Granger anymore, is that it?" 

In that single sentence, everything came rushing forth. Hadn't he grown out of that despicable name yet? And how---_how_--- could he _possibly _have known that that was exactly how I felt? I wanted to hit him and hug him at the same time. Instead, I took a deep breath and swallowed before replying. 

"More or less," I said through clenched teeth. He looked at me, surprised. 

"What? Are you serious? They really ignore you?" His voice sounded different, somehow.... I shrugged.

"They're busy. And so am I. We don't have all the time we used to." I looked at his face and caught my breath in my throat. His eyes seemed so... _concerned_. He seemed to realize this, because he quickly turned away. "What about you?" I asked after another of our silences. "I notice you're not flanked by those two trolls you usually hang out with."

"They haven't been hanging around at all this year, as you obviously haven't noticed. I've somehow managed to make them understand that I want nothing to do with any of the people that I used to hang out with." His voice held no emotion, and he didn't look away from the lake.

"And why is that?" 

"Because none of them really care," he spat bitterly. I nodded. I understood. I understood _completely._

"They all seem to think that what they see is who you are," I began quietly. "You're stereotyped and classified to a point when even you don't know who you are anymore. People ridicule you and make fun of you for whatever obscure reason they have planted in their minds, and the people you called friends don't notice because they've finally forgotten about you. You realize that you're completely alone, and you always have been, and no one cares, and that there's really no hope for anything anymore," I finished softly. I stared out beyond those trees that seemed so very familiar in a daze as parts of my life replayed in my mind. I was brought out of it when I realized that Malfoy was staring at me; I could feel his eyes on me. I turned to look at him. 

Lord, his eyes.... He understood. He stared at me with such intensity that I could feel him reading into me. 

"Hermione...." he began, using my first name and taking a few steps toward me. There were now only a few inches between us. I could see his eyes clearer than I ever had. He shook his head softly, letting a few strands of his silver hair fall across his forehead. "You're wrong...." His voice was unnerving. I had never, ever been spoken to in a tone that held such compassion; for I was convinced now that that was what it was. "You're not alone." 

And he leaned in and kissed me. 

It wasn't at all like I would have imagined. His touch was gentle and so tender, and I dissolved into it completely. I put a hand behind his neck and he pressed on the kiss even more, though it wasn't rough. It was probably the sweetest thing I've ever felt. He brought an icy hand to my cheek and caressed it softly. 

And then it ended, and we stared at each other for a few moments in a complete wonderment. _What just happened? Did I really kiss Draco Malfoy? _Thoughts like these kept charging through my head. I smiled at him, a very small smile, because I really didn't know what else to do. Slapping him really didn't seem very fair, as I had enjoyed the kiss so much. The hand that he held to my cheek brushed away a relentless tear that I didn't even know I had let fall. I was surprised; I was usually so good at hiding my emotions. I had mastered that art in those last few years. But then again, almost nothing seemed to get by Draco Malfoy anymore. I let out a shuddering breath and brought the tips of my freezing fingertips to graze his pale cheek before letting my hand fall limply to my side. Such an overwhelming feeling of love, agony, despair and confusion mixed up inside me. He took my hand up and kissed it softly, then pulled me close to him, into his strong embrace. 

I paid attention to love. 

~*~

A/N: Yes, I know, wasn't that just horrible? I'm so pathetic, yes, yes, I know. Please, if you're going to flame me, do it in the form of constructive criticism, or at least have the decency to give me a reason for the flame. Wait, nevermind, I don't really care, just as long as you leave a review, I don't care if it's nice or not. 


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